


success (and failure)

by towokuwusatsuwu



Category: HiGH&LOW: the Story of S.W.O.R.D. (TV)
Genre: Agender Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dom/sub Undertones, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 20:00:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15670281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towokuwusatsuwu/pseuds/towokuwusatsuwu
Summary: kirinji kills smokey out on the nameless street and nikaido rewards him for it. he would do anything for nikaido, after all.





	success (and failure)

The doorway of Nikaido’s private quarters is a place Kirinji has stood more times than he can count, telling himself to knock even though he would likely be turned away for choosing to intrude on Nikaido’s personal space. When Noboru had been a member of the Iemura Group, Kirinji had watched from a distance as the two of them stepped into the room together, Nikaido pulling the door shut behind them, the sound of the lock clicking into place audible even where Kirinji hid in the shadows. Then, jealousy burned in the back of his throat, his hands curling into fists that longed to slam into the walls, but leaving any kind of damage in the Kuryu household is strictly forbidden. Even Genji has self-control where that is concerned.

To be in front of this door once more, though this time by request instead of desperate and pitiful longing unbecoming for a man of Iemura, is a strange experience. The bile doesn’t burn in the back of his throat and his vision no longer bleeds red. He should be happy to stand here even in his rumpled clothing, the dirt of the Nameless Street still pressed into the fabric of his suit, his knuckles still bloody because eventually, the metal in his hand would not suffice. Nikaido wanted efficiency and Kirinji wanted to make them proud.

They had been on their way out of the Nameless Street, leaving Smokey’s dead body in the grime and the snow, when Nikaido told him in a clipped tone to come to their private quarters as soon as he stepped into the Kuryu household. Kirinji debates about that now, wondering if he ought to have showered first, changed into something more presentable or at least less dirty, or wiped his hands off on the way back home. No time for any of that now, though; Nikaido is an impatient and imposing person, and Kirinji has never wanted to anger them.

Hesitantly, he raises a hand to knock on the door, the dried blood cracking across his skin drawing his attention for just a moment. He only briefly knows why they were sent to the Nameless Street to take down the leader of the Rude Boys, caring little for the details in the bigger picture of getting to inflict numbing violence on the S.W.O.R.D. region. He still has no idea why Nikaido had been standing there, knife in hand, doing nothing. It seemed like they would have been able to take Smokey with little effort given how sick the man was.

Kirinji shakes his head, then knocks quietly on the door, glancing over his shoulder out of habit more than anything else. Though Nikaido is the enforcer of the Iemura Group, their high standing has granted them a private room close to Iemura’s own, something relatively unheard of as far as accommodations here are. The only other person kept close to their leader in such a way is Genji; Kirinji has seen the doorway the man slips from each morning, startlingly close to Kurosaki’s own. No one else holds that honor to his knowledge.

There is silence and Kirinji listens closely, debating whether or not he should knock again when he hears faint footsteps on the other side of the door. It swings in and he straightens his spine and his shoulders, hands shoved hastily into the pockets of his pants. Nikaido stands in front of him, devastating as always, having changed out the suit and the coat for a plain dark blue robe that contrasts heavily against their paler skin. Dark eyes scrutinize Kirinji for what feels like a lifetime before they finally step aside, waving for him to walk inside.

The interior of the room is spacious and yet minimalist, warm and yet cold, and Kirinji finds himself reeling as he eyes each component of the room. The low couches around the coffee table, the bed with its closed draperies, the room’s low lighting barely offset by candlelight. There are too many shadows for it to ever feel welcoming but Kirinji loves it just the same because it encapsulates everything Nikaido is as a person.

“I should have had you clean up before I brought you into my room.” Nikaido’s hands are on his shoulders, spinning him around until the two of them are face-to-face, or at least as close as they can be considering the height difference. “You’re a mess. I suppose that’s natural.”

Kirinji has only been in this proximity with Nikaido for punishment, never in personal conversation. Nikaido has never allowed it. “I apologize, Sir.”

Nikaido sighs, fingers loosening the tie around the collar of Kirinji’s shirt, an action that should not make Kirinji’s throat feel tighter in response. “Well, I can’t have you getting my room dirty. You can use my shower. I don’t have clothes that can fit you, but a robe should suffice.”

“S-Sir?” Kirinji’s head threatens to topple off of his neck at these words. Naked, covered only by a robe, and in Nikaido’s presence?

“Unless you have a better idea?” Nikaido leaves the tie loose, unbuttoning Kirinji’s vest with quick and nimble fingers. “You don’t keep clothes in this house to my knowledge as you aren’t invited to stay within its walls. Do you want to go home?”

Kirinji shakes his head so hard his neck throbs with the motion. “No. I’ll just shower here.”

The bathroom is much like the rest of the room but Kirinji hardly looks it over, tripping over his own feet as he kicks his pants off, ripping his shirt and vest off, not caring if the buttons tear from their fragile threads. The water is too hot against his skin still numb from the winter winds outside but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting clean enough for Nikaido, seeing what Nikaido has in store for him. Of all the people to invite him over this late at night…

Over the years, Kirinji has had fantasies that tend to run wild. Nikaido had already been in place as an enforcer when Kirinji was inducted into Iemura Group and there was no way to ignore the beautiful person who followed Iemura like a shadow, whose intellect and understanding was called upon by men far older than them, men who should have had more experience. All it said to Kirinji was that they valued Nikaido and understood their importance.

To Kirinji, Nikaido is the entire world. His loyalty to Iemura Group is second to his loyalty to Nikaido, made only worse when Noboru joined them and stole Nikaido’s attention away. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Even if the car hadn’t killed Noboru, Nikaido is never going to look at him again, and Kirinji no longer has to worry about sharing with him.

Still, he wishes the car had done the job sometimes. Even at nearly full speed the impact had not been enough, and Kirinji was sure he had hit the mark just right. The suggestion had been Nikaido’s and Kirinji had jumped at the chance to be the one to take Noboru out. Oh well. He can settle for the scars and hospital time his actions no doubt led to.

When he steps out of the shower, his skin flushed an angry red from the heat and his scalp tingling from just how rough he’d been washing the gel out of his hair, the clothes on the floor are gone. A towel neatly folded on the counter next to an unfamiliar plush black robe wait for him, and Kirinji dries himself off with about as much tenderness as he used to wash.

Nikaido sits on the couch when Kirinji exits the bathroom, closing the door behind him. It isn’t often that Kirinji sees Nikaido outside of the context of work and even beating a man to the point of unconsciousness is not enough to dishevel Nikaido suitably. With their hair perfectly combed into place and their clothes always pristine, Nikaido seems almost unreal but as Kirinji comes to sit on the couch next to them, leaving a suitable amount of space between them, he feels like he must be seeing a new side to Nikaido this evening.

And  _ he _ gets to see it. Not Noboru. Not anyone else. Just him.

“You have failed me more times than I care to consider counting at the moment,” Nikaido says, and Kirinji bites his tongue. No reason to argue because he knows it’s true better than anyone else does. “But tonight, you succeeded for me. You completed a task that I believed I could complete on my own and yet failed to do. For that, I will reward you.”

“Sir?” Kirinji’s hands twitch with the need to  _ touch. _

Before Nikaido, there was only violence and pain and the desire and need to prove that he could do anything he set his mind to. There was nothing soft and no one deserved less than total destruction; only Nikaido is worthy of gentleness, of touch not meant to bruise and break. Kirinji could never feel such a way about anyone but the person sitting next to him.

Nikaido turns to face him properly, fingers drifting up to brush a strand of dark hair away from their face. Without the gel to keep it perfectly straight and in place, Nikaido’s hair curls softly and Kirinji wants to touch, to feel the change beneath the pads of his fingers.

“You want me.” There is an undercurrent of mirth in Nikaido’s voice. “You always have.”

Kirinji runs his tongue over his lips slowly before answering. “Yes, Sir. I do.”

“At least you’re honest about your desires.” Nikaido stretches out a hand, fingers ghosting over Kirinji’s face before he cups his cheek properly, inflaming every nerve ending in Kirinji’s body in the process. “You were so jealous of Noboru. I thought it was amazing.”

The mention of Noboru’s name would be enough to destroy the mood if it was anyone else, but Kirinji only leans into Nikaido’s touch. “He got to be with  _ you, _ ” he says. “It isn’t  _ fair. _ ”

“Life is rarely fair. I thought you might have learned such a lesson by this point. At any rate, he isn’t here any longer, is he?” Nikaido’s thumb presses against the corner of Kirinji’s mouth almost hard enough to hurt. “Do you want me or not?”

Kirinji swallows hard. “Of course I do.”

Nikaido moves faster than Kirinji’s eyes can track, but he’s already almost unable to focus on anything with Nikaido so close and so different than anything he’s grown used to. One moment Nikaido is leaning closer to him and the next Nikaido is on top of him, straddling his lap, hands braced on the back of the couch. Kirinji chokes and his hands spasm, desperate to touch, to slip beneath the robe and the promise of soft bare skin.

But this is good, as well. Nikaido close, hovering so close to him, thighs spread across Kirinji’s lap. This is a fantasy in and of itself though it isn’t quite going the way Kirinji would have imagined it. He was a fool for those fantasies. Nothing compares to flesh and blood.

“If you succeed for me, you will be rewarded. That is simple enough, yes?” Nikaido’s eyes are dark, so dark, that Kirinji feels he could get swallowed in them.

“Yes, Sir. I understand.” Kirinji’s eyes drop down, locking on the triangle of bare skin above the top of Nikaido’s robe. “I won’t fail you again.”

Nikaido chuckles. “You better not.” And then they lean back, hands moving to the sash at their waist.

Kirinji watches as they untie the sash with long, capable fingers, his pulse pounding in his throat and he has to shove his hands under his thighs to control himself. With a flourish, Nikaido lets the sash drop and then curls their fingers around the fabric, opening the robe slowly. Kirinji’s eyes don’t miss a single inch of their body, carefully molded and worked into hard muscle, the faint scars on their chest catching his attention for a shadow of a moment. He’d heard rumors when he joined Iemura, but no one dared speak about Nikaido-san’s body out loud.

_ Idiots, _ he thinks now, biting down on his tongue.  _ They’re perfect. _

There is nothing under the robe. Nikaido catches Kirinji by the chin before his eyes can drift down lower, their gazes locking. Electricity sparks between them, making every nerve ending in Kirinji’s body tingle in response. Everything about Nikaido is addicting, every facet of them so interesting that Kirinji wants to get lost in them. Even if all they do is look down on him for it.

“Your permanence in my life will be decided by how well you do as you’re told.” Nikaido’s fingers squeeze hard, cruelly. “No more suggesting we kill an  _ entire _ gang of people because you’re too impatient to carefully make sure to separate the sick ones. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” Kirinji tries not to let that one sting too much. But it was more  _ efficient, _ he was sure.

Nikaido smirks down at him, their eyes hard. “If you fail me, Kirinji, you will be at  _ my _ mercy. Even moreso than you will be if you agree to this. Do you understand, as well?”

“Absolutely, Sir.” Kirinji has tasted Nikaido’s fists before, has spilled his own blood across them. It’s nothing personal; anyone who fails has to suffer.

“Good.” Nikaido’s fingers close around his wrists, dragging his hands out from under his thighs. “You are allowed to touch me now.”

Kirinji’s touch leaves no more room for questions.


End file.
